I Will Never Be Royal
by steelgray
Summary: Royalty AU. Past age. Dean/Castiel, Sam/Gabriel. Destiel, Sabriel. Dean and Sam are the 'poor', and Castiel takes them both home to the castle with him, where the Winchesters, after a life of hardship, learn to trust Cas and Gabriel.
1. Meet the Royals

**Notes: For this to make sense, John had to be out of the picture, of a sort. Sorry.**

**Hope you enjoy this little figment of my imagination: If something doesn't fit, please feel free to tell me.**

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Dean and Sam sat outside, the snowflakes falling around them, the light from the scummy inn they were staying at the only thing that took the darkness of night away.

'Staying at', however, was a bit of a stretch. Their father, drunk as usual, was upstairs with one of the barmaids, and the bar had been so loud and rowdy that Sam hadn't wanted to stay inside. Hence, why they were both outside.

Dean and Sam were hunters, the elder twenty-two, the younger eighteen. Their father was also a hunter, but he'd strayed more from the label of 'hunter' to 'alcoholic', though neither of the boys liked to discuss it.

And so they sat, huddled against the building, atop a snowbank. Hesitant to break the silence, Sam spoke.

"Do you think he'll get better?"

Dean had strained to hear the whisper from his younger brother. "He's fine, Sam."

Silence fell again as Sam made no effort to correct Dean, instead scooting closer to him to conserve heat as carriages whisked by them, their wealthy inhabitants hidden behind curtains.

If we were wealthy, thought Sam, we'd always have books.

As if picking up on his brother's thoughts, Dean thought, We'd have a home.

We'd have any kind of food we wanted.

We could buy anything.

We could stop hunting.

The young men stopped their private musings when a jeering voice rang through the night.

"Look at the peasants!"

Sam and Dean, well used to the treatment, didn't react.

The group of boys approaching them seemed to be wealthy; there were a group in every place they stayed; their ringleader no older than twenty.

"What?" One follower mocked, "Deaf? Wouldn't surprise me, filth like you."

Dean coloured, hands clenching, sorely tempted to reach for the blade in his back pocket. Sam laid a hand on his arm, a silent warning.

"Imagine that!" The ringleader mocked again, "Not just filth but fags!"

Dean spoke at that, voice a low growl, "Brothers."

"It speaks!"

Dean rose at that, drawing his knife. "And it's telling you to shut up."

"Dean," Sam said, "They're not worth it."

"No, no," The ringleader's eyes sparkled as he unsheathed his own sword, "Let's see who wins this, the peasant with the pocketknife," he paused dramatically, "or the Earl's son."

The other boy advanced, twirling his sword millimeters from Dean's face, who, for his part, stood his ground. The voice in the distance made the attention-seeking boy drop his weapon rather quickly.

"Jasper."

The boy turned. "Oh, it's you."

"Leave them alone."

"The beggar boy insulted me."

The blonde man gave Jasper a look that spoke volumes, "Like the last one?"

His face reddened. "You aren't the boss of me."

"Technically," The other said steelily, "I am. You do remember who you're talking to?"

No response forth came from Jasper.

"You and your lot can go."

Heeding the dismissal, the group dispersed, grumbling all the way.

"Are you both alright?"

"Oh, peachy," Dean spat back, "Can't even sit without those people after us."

Their help cocked his head, "I don't see how this relates to fruit."

Dean shook his head, clearly unwilling to admit anything was wrong, "Thanks, but we're fine."

"You're blue in the face," He replied, looking unconvinced.

"Well, not everyone can afford to live like you, okay?"

"Dean," Sam looked apologetically at the person Dean was determined to offend, "Let's go."

"And go where?" Dean exploded, "Go where?"

With me.

Both brothers looked at the other man in shock, unable to believe that he'd spoken.

"Come with me," He says.

"And why would we do that?" Dean instantly leapt onto the defensive.

"You aren't the usual," He replied after a moment of reflection, "It's intriguing."

"Great, better than the common filth," Dean rolled his eyes, working his jaw, "Thanks a lot."

"You're welcome?" He asked, looking confused yet again.

"And here I thought you were socially inept," Sam muttered to Dean. "Besides, what can it hurt?"

"Fine," Dean said to him, "We'll go with you."

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**So, that's the end. Reviews will make me continue?**

**Brenda**


	2. Castle

**Enjoy Chapter Two!**

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He gave them a quick nod. "Excellent. I'll send for a carriage."

"Shouldn't we leave Dad a note?" Sam said quietly to Dean, "He'll be worried if we just disappear."

"We'll probably be back later," Dean reasoned. "There's no need, unless you'd like to go upstairs and tell him."

Sam choked on air, "No, no, that's alright."

"Who are you anyway?" Dean asked the man who'd send a paperboy for a ride, "That you have more power than an Earl?"

"I'm Castiel, Castiel Novak."

"Oh." The blood drained from the brothers' faces.

Castiel sighed, he'd known that this would happen, as it always did when he revealed that he was the King's son. "And what are your names?" He asks, trying to maintain a semblance of normalcy.

"Sam," says the tall one, who looks to be the younger.

"Dean," replies the elder one.

Castiel doesn't comment on the fact that neither gave out their last names (Though he does know that they are brothers) and that they look warier than they had before.

Then, the carriage pulls up, pulled by two dappled grey Arabian horses, and the carriage itself a lavish royal blue. The servant opens the door for Castiel and the brothers, and Castiel thanks the man before gesturing the other two to step inside first. Soon enough, they are settled and speed off into the night.

The Winchesters are obviously impressed by the carriage's interior, though they're obviously trying hard to not show it. The seats are leather, and the curtains a fine silk.

Castiel reaches to the side of his seat and pulls out two thick, cashmere blankets, handing them to Dean and Sam. "Here," he says, "Please, get warm."

Sam gives Castiel a small smile, and Dean a crisp, barely-there nod. It's evident that neither brother trusts him, wondering at his motives.

If anything, Castiel also wonders what he was thinking. But there had just been something...enigmatic about the two that made him want to ease their suffering, especially the elder one, who looked as if he'd seen too much, too fast, even more so than the younger. To be completely honest with himself, he doesn't know why he feels such a need to protect them.

The ride passes by in silence, the carriage cabin quiet as two brothers finally begin to feel warm again. Before long, though, their transport has stopped and the footman is opening the door to bring in the cold.

"Thank you, Stevens," Castiel says as the footman bows. He beckons to the brothers, "Come along."

The two abandon their blankets and stand up, masking their yawns to peer out into the darkness, lit by lamps.

The castle.

Grand, majestic, all words that could describe the beauty of the archetecture in front of them, but it was more than that. Beautiful.

The brick-coloumned building has two towers, and a huge wood door opening into the building itself, the pathways cobbled and the gardens on full display on the sides, pruned back against the cold weather, ready to reemerge in the spring.

Following Castiel into the castle, they are greeted by an abundance of ladies-in-waiting, dignified looking dignitaries, and all sorts of servants.

"Gabriel!" Castiel calls up the winding marble staircase, "Gabriel!"

"Cassie!" A voice says from behind him, "Where'd you get off to?"

"I was in town, and..."

Gabriel interrupted, "Never mind that, who are they?" This statement is offset by a lavicious wink in the direction of Sam, who instantly turns red and shuffles a bit closer to Dean.

"Sam and Dean Winchester," the prince points to them both in turn.

"Feel free to join me in my rooms anytime, Moose," Gabriel gives Sam one last wink and seemingly vanishes up the staircase.

Dean shakes with protective fury. "Who was that? Is that why you brought us here? Because let me tell you, the answer is no."

"Dean." Sam tries to reason with his brother, "I'm sure that he was just joking."

"Joking?" Dean whirls on the taller man, "Joking? If you think that this is just some big joke..."

"Gentlemen," Castiel interrupts, "I'm sure that it has been a long day. Nothing that you do not want to happen to you will not happen, Dean Winchester. Or for your brother. Shall I show you to your quarters?"

Sam has the grace to look abashed, but all Dean can manage is a curt nod.

Castiel calls for a maid, "Miss Jane," he says, "Can you show these two to the guest rooms in the East Wing?"

The maid gapes at him, "The East Wing? But Sire..."

"Is there a problem, Miss Jane?"

"Not at all, Sire. Follow me, sirs."

And wondering what was wrong with the East Wing, the men follow the maid up the staircase and to their rooms for the night.

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**Oh Gabriel, always such a charming gent *not*.**

**Hope you enjoyed! If you did, feel free to leave me a follow/fave/review. Or, better yet, give me some prompts for what you (Yeah! You!) would like to see in the next chapter, either by PM, review, or mindmeld. **

**Ta!**

**Brenda**


	3. Oh, Gabriel's Got a Crush

As soon as Castiel walks away, Dean is already cornering the maid, "What's wrong with the East Wing?"

"Nothing, sir!" Is her reply to his aggressive tone, her eyes cast to the ground.

"Then why would it be surprising, Miss?" Sam asks in a nicer, but still firm, tone.

"It's the royal wing, you know, Sir, the wing where their quarters are."

"I see. Lead on, then," Sam replies, frowning in confusion.

"Do you think that this is a trap?" Dean's hushed hiss meets his younger brother's ears.

"It's something. I don't think it's a trap, though."

"Hm." The sound doesn't sound as convinced as Sam does.

Soon enough, they are led to the guest rooms, and the maid opens the door, bidding them goodnight, a slight tremor lacing her voice.

The room is beautiful, with two huge feather beds, covered in thin ivory silk sheets and small mountains of plush brown pillows, bathroom, dressers, mirror, and intricately carved, oaken wardrobe. The stone floor is covered in blood-red rugs, and the sanguine-colored curtains lead out to a balcony.

"Well," Sam says, "Night, Dean."

"Night, Sam."

The next morning dawns bright and early, the crystallike, dewy sparkle of ice coating the trees outside, the ground, and the rest of the building.

Sam's up before Dean, waking from slumber pleasantly warm, muscles limp and relaxed, stretching his long body up and almost rolling out of the soft bed, catching himself on a bedpost. Standing up with a great yawn and stretching in the slightly-cold room, the tall man walks into the bathroom.

The sheer size of the room is what astonishes Sam first, the space containing a giant bathtub, with a full wall devoted to just mirrors. The other walls house bath salts and soaps, ornate Roman paintings hung up, fresh vases of roses about on little tables.

Drawing a bath, Sam, (who can blame him?) settled down for a long soak, and after the water has turned cold and he's reluctantly pulled on a bathrobe, he walked back out to the bedroom.

"Hey, Sammy."

"Agh!" Sam yelps in surprise, whirling around, "Sire."

"Gabriel," the honey-haired man replies, chocolate eyes twinkling. "So, you're Sam Winchester."

"Yeah," Sam fidgets uncomfortably, feeling very underdressed in just his bathrobe, glancing at his still-sleeping brother, praying that he wouldn't wake up. "Not to be rude, but what are you doing here?" He'd meant to be rude, his discomfort making him want the other to leave.

"Oh, nothing important," the older man sat down on Sam's bed, stretching out among the pillows that had been moved about while Sam slept. "Cassie told me to tell you that your father had been informed of where you were, and to have me bring you clothes. They're on the dresser." He scoffs, "Maids' work, but if this is the repayment I get," his eyes rove Sam's body appreciatively, making him squirm and turn red in discomfort, "Then by all means. To tell you the truth, Cassie seems to be enamored with your grouch of a brother. However, I prefer mine a little-"

"No, no, no." Sam stopped him with a finger raised. "I am not your anything. I don't even know why I'm here!"

"Cause my brother likes your brother, obviously, Samsquatch."

"Okay," the taller man pinched the bridge of his nose, "I'm going to get dressed, and then I'm going to wake Dean up and we'll be on our merry way. Alright? Nice meeting you."

Picking up the clothes, Sam walked into the bathroom, and Gabriel left.

But it didn't mean that the prince was just going to let this intriguing man leave so easily.

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**Gabriel wants the guy...Please review and tell me how he can get him! Your follows and favorites are also much appreciated! Help a writer out?**

**Brenda xoxo**


	4. Sam Versus Pie

Dean was awoken by a set of clothes hitting his face, Sam stomping into the room.

"What's your problem?" he huffs, "I was sleeping!"

"And I'm leaving," Sam replies. "Don't you think it odd that we're just suddenly here, in a castle, of all places, sleeping in the same wing as the royal family?"

"Yes. Only I thought of that yesterday. Why this sudden change of heart?"

His brother gave him his signature 'are-you-kidding-me' bitchface, "Because it's absurd! This never happens, but in little girls' fairy tales."

"So you're saying that you're Sam-erella?"

"No!"

"We'll leave soon, Sam, I hear you. First though, I think it's breakfast time-I wonder if they can make me a pie?"

"Dean!"

"What?"

"Pie is not a breakfast food!"

"Yes, it is!"

Nevertheless, once both brothers had dressed, the two found their way down the stairs, almost running straight into Castiel and Gabriel, who were deep in conversation.

"Sire," Dean says reluctantly, bowing quickly.

"Castiel, Dean Winchester. A good morning to you. Shall we have breakfast?"

"We shall."

"I trust that the clothes that Gabriel left for you were tailored accordingly?"

They actually fit well, and the springy cottony fabric was soft. "Yes, sire," said Sam, "Thank you."

"It was no concern," said the prince, "The maids were washing your other things anyway."

The four walked quickly, the hallways clearing like the parting of a sea, and soon enough they'd entered the kitchens.

"We'll be eating in my quarters today, if that's acceptable," Castiel's cool, collected voice trailed behind him. "What would you like?"

Both of the Winchesters attempted to speak at the same time.

"Pie."

"Eggs and toast."

Castiel looked at Dean in surprise, "Pie?"

"If he wasn't such a spoilsport," Gabriel cut in as Dean was about to respond, "He'd be my kind of guy." The man smirked when he was rewarded with a scowl from Sam and a glare from his brother.

"Pie can be arranged, right?" Dean actually looked worried, drawing a soft laugh from Castiel.

"Do not worry, Dean, it can. I'll have the cooks make you a few."

The Winchester gave the younger prince a blissful smile that nearly melted him down to his boots. "Thank you."

"It's...It's not a problem." Castiel stuttered, making Gabriel smirk again.

They continued their walk to the kitchens, and after Castiel had spoken to the cooks, they returned again to the East Wing, only this time, Dean walked beside Castiel, leaving a disgruntled Sam with Gabriel, bringing up the rear.

"I thought that you were leaving?"

Sam hears the triumph in the other's voice and refuses to surrender to it. "We will be."

"Why would you do that?"

"Because we have a life outside of this castle."

Gabriel doesn't reply to this.

"What?" Sam laughs, "You didn't think that we'd stay here indefinitely?"

"Was rather hoping you would," Gabriel replies, "You're too much pretty for out there."

"Did you just call me a pretty-boy?" Sam asks in shock.

"You are a very handsome man, Sammy," Gabriel winks at the indignant moose beside him.

Sam huffs, looking away, "Well, if you're wanting me to stay, you've been doing a horrible job of it thus far."

Sam didn't know what he was doing, feeling all the awkward youth that he was, inexperienced, unsure, young. For goodness' sakes, this man was trying to flirt with him and he wasn't even gay!

"Well, how about, for lunch, I take you into town, and we'll make a day of it?"

Sam deliberated, "Fine."

"You said what?" Dean's voice is low. The two were in their room after breakfast, lounging about while nursing full bellies. "I thought that you were the one who wanted to leave!"

"I'll call it off then. No big deal, saying no to royalty." Sam said sarcastically, then noticing Dean's expression change. "What?"

"I may have told Castiel that we'd make pie later."

"Make pie? But you had two of them at breakfast!"

"He helped! And I like pie!"

"You like dying young, that's what you like," Sam replied, rolling his eyes. "Fine, don't blame me if we stay a bit longer then."

"What are you going to do until lunch?"

"Go to the library."

"Dork," replied Dean. "I think I'll talk to the ladies in the hall."

"That's all you can think about, Dean? Pie and women?" Sam shakes his head.

"Yes, and I enjoy doing just that, instead of doing boring things like reading!"

Sam rolls his eyes, "You have fun. I'm going to the library. Reading isn't boring." Dean scoffs.

****** "Bye, loser!" Is the only answer he receives as he walks out the door. **

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**As always, if you liked, leave me a review-I'll update faster, promise!**

**Brenda xoxo**


	5. What is This?

**I do believe some of you asked for De-de-destiel? It's a-coming!**

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The air around him is thick with dust, the library silent, undisturbed. The thick volumes line curving shelves, winding around the room like twirling mazes, easy to get lost in and never return out of.

Sam sighs in happiness; he can't remember the last time he'd seen this many books, it'd been too long. It was a welcome feeling, like coming home.

Coming home.

Brushing off those kinds of thoughts, Sam returned his attentions to the books. Picking out a thick copy, he retreated to the circle of furniture in the middle of the large, airy room. Someone else obviously loved this space.

Settling into an armchair, Sam begins to read. But he's only halfway through the story when a voice startled him.

"Sam."

He looks up, "Sire."

"Just Castiel, Sam."

"Sure, sure," Sam replied, rubbing the back of his neck. "Where's Dean?"

"That's actually what I wanted to talk to you about."

"O-kay," Sam enunciated the word, hoping for further explanation, "Did he do something wrong?"

"Well, not wrong," Castiel hesitated, shifting from foot to foot, "But whatever it is, it's making me feel funny."

"Funny?"

"Strange, protective, almost. Left out, as well."

"Are you trying to say that you're...jealous?"

"What's that?"

Sam had to stifle a laugh. Castiel, awkward Castiel, with his wild brother. It could actually...work. It rather reminded him of...

It did not remind him of Gabriel. At all.

Not one bit.

"When," Sam tried to explain to the oblivious man in front of him, "Of course you've felt it before, it's when you wish you were or had something that someone else has. Envious."

"Well, it's certainly unpleasant."

"Where is he?"

"In the halls. I was going to ask him to make pies with me."

How cute. "Just ask him, I'm one hundred percent sure he won't say no."

"Okay. A good day to you, Sam. Gabriel has been looking for you. Shall I inform him of your presence?"

"Nay, we can let him figure it out."

"As you wish, Sam, but he seemed a bit anxious, well, more so than usual."

And with that, he vanished.

Castiel and Dean. Sam wondered how that would ever work. It was obvious that Castiel had been smitten with Dean at first sight, but what about Dean? Sam knew that Dean loved the other's tolerance for wrapped up fruit, but would Dean be able to reciprocate Castiel's feelings?

Feeling that his thoughts were straying too far into the 'mushy' thoughts that Dean so detested, Sam returned to his book, immersing himself in the volume once more.

It was well past twelve o'clock by the time he'd finished, and, after stretching sore muscles from sitting too long in one position, Sam replaced the book he'd been reading and walked out into the hall, turning to head back up to his room.

Meanwhile, Castiel was mustering up the courage to get Dean away from the women and back to himself.

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**Oh, poor Cas! Let's wish him luck with a, review? Maybe?**

**Thanks for reading! You guys are brilliant!**

**Brenda xoxo**


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